


Storm's Indulgence

by spymursclause



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Banter, Dirty Talk, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:00:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24104062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spymursclause/pseuds/spymursclause
Summary: Gloriously beautifulhe would call Nezha if he could talk — surely Nezha would protest if he did but that’s what Nezha’s always been to him —gloriously beautiful— a figure wreathed in typhoons of flame.
Relationships: Baal/Nezha (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 45





	Storm's Indulgence

**Author's Note:**

> don't look at me-

The sun has barely risen when Baal is suddenly roused, Hannibal’s paws digging into his side as the cat scrambles ungracefully over him despite Hannibal’s ability to float. Lazy bastard.

“ _ Mreow! _ ” Hannibal’s loud, pacing along the edge of the bed eagerly as if waiting for someone, tail slapping Baal in the face when Baal rolls over to see what the commotion is. 

If it’s another mouse, he swears he’s going to get the captains to hire rodent extermination services next time they land. He’s tired of finding dead mice in his bed. 

Nezha waves at him, perched on Baal’s desk with a cheeky grin on his face and Baal nearly falls out of bed, legs tangled in the sheets as he reflexively tries to throw them off and pull them up at the same time. By the  _ Astrals _ Nezha rarely ever moves quietly but he chooses the worst time to do so. 

“Astrals,  _ Nezha _ —!” he exclaims, accidentally knocking Hannibal off the bed with how fast he sits up. “When— How—  _ What time is it? _ ” Nezha plucks Hannibal out of the air when Hannibal floats forlornly, meowing sadly in a way Baal is sure is somewhat faked. 

Primals don’t need sleep but it doesn’t mean Baal doesn’t suffer from the struggle to fully rid the cobwebs of sleep from his mind and eyes when he’s jerked out of a schedule he’s gotten somewhat used to. He stifles a yawn and leans back on his pillows, Hannibal now purring  _ very _ loudly in Nezha’s arms, kneading Nezha with his paws. 

“When did you get here?”

“Not too long ago. I snuck past the guards,” Nezha replies casually, walking towards the bed and Baal notices he’s not wearing his armour. 

A rare instance but a welcome one, Baal doesn’t know if he could resist the urge to hurl Nezha out the window if all that armour was creaking and making enough noise to announce to the crew that Nezha was back and  _ in _ Baal’s room. 

Too many people would know what that means and while Baal isn’t necessarily ashamed of what happens, being the butt of jokes is something he’d prefer to avoid.

“Bathed and cleaned my armour so I wouldn’t stink up your room.” Baal shudders at the thought of what could possibly warrant a cleanup from Nezha of all primals. “And I imagine it’s early. Very early. Most people are still sleeping.”

Hannibal’s set down on his bed and the bed creaks as Nezha sits down, hand automatically seeking Baal’s, squeezing gently. 

Baal sighs, leaning forward a bit, a scolding on the tip of his tongue because Nezha knows better than to sneak up on him. Defensive primal or not, one that loves Nezha or not, Baal’s still part of a fighting crew and if it hadn’t been for Hannibal, there’s the very real possibility that Baal would’ve tried to brain Nezha with his guitar and very well succeeded — most people can barely blink before Baal reacts sometimes, especially with his instincts. Nezha himself likes to joke Baal’s at his most dangerous when Baal is half awake. 

He opens his mouth, the lecture probably prepared nowhere as harsh as usual since he’s still waking up but—

The kiss surprises Baal. Nezha leans in, one hand grasping Baal’s wrist to still him, other hand curling around the back of Baal’s neck. Nezha’s grin before he kisses him is easy and wide, a wink before he closes the last few inches between them. 

It’s not an aggressive kiss but it’s not chaste either. It’s tender, more so than usual yet Baal senses something else. When Nezha pulls away, a grin still pasted on his face, Baal shoots him a fixed stare. 

“What?” 

“Just missed you,” Nezha fires back, leaning in for another kiss. “ _ A lot, _ ” he adds, giving Hannibal a gentle push when the cat tries to beg for more pats. Baal can’t help but smile at that, accepting a third kiss on his forehead, blinking sleepily as he relaxes even more, sinking back into his bed with a sigh.

He shuts his eyes as Nezha combs his hand through his hair, leaning into Nezha’s hand when Nezha’s fingers rub circles into his scalp. “You could’ve written letters you know.” It’s not like he particularly enjoys reading but he will never tire of Nezha’s handwritten letters. They may sometimes come with unidentified fluid staining the pages or have questionable ink used for his scrawling words but Baal has never once thrown any of them away.

“I could’ve,” Nezha agrees, “but they wouldn’t have properly expressed how much I miss and _want_ you. And I’m not sure if you want the captains accidentally reading some of our correspondences, no?” Nezha’s voice drops and his lips curl into a smirk with the next kiss he presses to Baal’s forehead. Baal’s eyes snap open and he slaps Nezha’s hand away from his head. 

Nezha wiggles his fingers in the air, grinning down at Hannibal as Baal glares at him without any fire. Nezha cooes at Hannibal until Baal pries Nezha’s fingers from his wrist with great difficulty, Nezha’s soft chuckles reverberating through the room as Baal lifts each finger individually, one occasionally closing back on Baal’s wrist. 

He knows exactly what Nezha’s up to and what he wants. Not that it’s unwelcome but—

“I…  _ No _ . It’s early like you said and what if we wake up the others…?”

It would be mortifying and it’s an ungodly hour, surely he’d be the talk of the crew for the next week  _ and  _ there was no telling what kind of people would come knocking on his door. Baal is very, very, very sure that he does not want to get on the bad side of certain people on this ship. At least not until he’s due for a couple months away from the ship because the captains seem to collect the scariest kinds of crew members. Ones that could kill primals like him. 

“Not if you’re quiet, _ Baal _ ~” There’s nothing innocent about Nezha’s voice now and Baal tries to rise only to fall back as Nezha cages him in. 

Baal’s face burns, he’s never very good at keeping a leash on his emotions when it comes to this kind of thing. Nezha’s much more suave with it and has more of an edge when it comes to  _ things _ like this. And Nezha has always had the knack of throwing Baal of kilter anyways, taking him apart piece by piece before piecing him back together like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

“I wasn’t aware I was loud,” he rebukes, trying not to lose his cool despite the fact he knows Nezha knows he’s flustered and struggling to retain some control of  _ whatever _ this is. 

It is the wrong thing to say to Nezha. 

Nezha’s eyes darken, sky blue eyes turning into the ocean and he leans down again. The kiss is heavy and steals away any breath Baal has. His hands seem to freeze and his ears burn, aware he makes an embarrassing noise that sounds vaguely like a whimper before Nezha allows him a breather. 

Hannibal’s already phased out of existence; Baal can’t maintain Hannibal’s form when he’s flustered like this and if Baal can remember correctly, Nezha is the only one that could possibly make him not able to maintain Hannibal’s extension. 

He can’t stop the slew of noises that escape his clenched teeth when Nezha presses biting kisses to his neck and collarbones, tugging at Baal’s hair with a hint of force to get the earth primal to tilt his head back. Baal feels like putty in Nezha’s hands, Nezha’s touch doing all sorts of embarrassing things to him and he wishes he wasn’t desperate for more. 

“ _ Nezha- _ ” he starts before Nezha shushes him, tugging off Baal’s shirt with a hint of urgency, blue eyes glimmering with a hint of red. “Nez-”

“ _ Baal _ ,” Nezha whispers, an edge to his voice, “ _ quiet. _ ” 

Anything Baal’s been about to say dies on his lips and he almost shrinks, holding his tongue. “Good,” Nezha murmurs, almost like a praise and Baal shivers, eyes sliding shut. 

Nezha is never quite slow with anything, except for love maybe, and revealing the cards of his heart. He seems impatient, pulling off Baal’s pants with a hint of clumsiness like he hasn’t done this in a while — and he hasn’t so it’s not as flawless and quick as he usually is. 

Still he slowly works his way through the articles of clothing Baal is wearing — Baal is grateful he doesn’t rip anything but maybe it’s because Baal isn’t wearing his day clothing which has gone through its fair share of patchwork and replaced articles.

Nezha leaves Baal naked and laid out for him. Baal shivers again, eyes opening just a bit as he huffs out a breath, reaching for the warmer primal. It’s cold sometimes on the Grandcypher and Baal has never had a high core temperature. 

Nezha moves soundlessly, opening the drawer next to Baal's bed, and he pulls out the bottle of lubricant. Baal makes a vaguely strangled noise since he has no memory of ever buying anything like  _ that _ and Nezha winks at him, looking much too pleased with himself. 

Nezha distracts him with another kiss, settling in between his legs and Baal almost scolds him, that it was unfair that Nezha hasn’t undressed yet. But then again, Nezha never plays fair so it’s pointless. 

Baal gasps when Nezha slides a finger in, gripping at Nezha’s hair as Nezha nips at the inside of his thigh roughly. He tries to clamp his legs shut, buck his hips — whatever would stop Nezha for a moment but Nezha maintains an iron grip on his hip, pinning him down almost effortlessly. 

“Tight,” Nehza murmurs almost absently, lips pressed against Baal’s skin. 

Baal flushes, throwing an arm over his eyes.

It’s embarrassing, so embarrassing and yet he lets out a soft whine when Nezha crooks his finger, nipping Baal’s thigh again, harder this time. 

Baal writhes, stifling strangled whimpers. It’s a lot. Almost too much. 

“ _ God _ ,” Baal whispers without thinking.

“No god, only me,” Nezha says smugly, pushing in a second finger as if to accentuate his remark. “By the Astrals you’re  _ tight _ . Did you not do anything while I was gone?” Nezha sounds pleased more than anything, kissing Baal’s thigh again. “Thought you’d be needy enough to finger yourself every once in a while but I guess you’ll look that much better stretched around me~”

Baal makes a noise that’s intended to mean  _ shut up _ but it doesn’t convey what he wants. 

“Must you be so crass,” Baal complains softly. Nezha smirks, mouthing out an ‘ _ of course _ ’ into his skin before scissoring his fingers. 

Baal has to clamp a hand over his mouth — not that it does much for the sounds that manage to tear themselves from his throat because Nezha isn’t gentle. His fingers, usually twirling his spear with deadly accuracy are deft when it comes to stretching Baal. 

He’s rough enough so it burns pleasurably but it’s careful calculated movements that his easy demeanour doesn’t bely. He knows what is enough and what is too much — and he pushes Baal as close to  _ too much _ as Baal can tolerate.

Nezha pauses, fingers stilling. And then he twists them when he sees Baal exhale — a moment of relaxation. Baal thinks he screams. 

He’s not too sure, Nezha digs his fingers in deep and it doesn’t  _ hurt _ but it makes Baal see stars for a moment. Nezha laughs, leaning up to kiss Baal — slots another finger in and Baal’s back arches, gasping into Nezha’s mouth. 

Baal can feel Nezha against his thigh, stiff and hot. There’s a hint of urgency in how Nezha curls his fingers inside of Baal, fast and precise. Baal can’t help but let out hushed gasps — Nezha’s fingers coupled with his teeth sinking into Baal’s neck and shoulder drives him up the wall. 

“N… Ah…” Nezha chooses to bend his fingers the moment Baal opens his mouth and all Baal can do is gasp brokenly, clutching to Nezha’s shoulder, knuckles turning white. 

Nezha touches his lips to Baal’s forehead gently, a wild contrast to his hands — one which wraps around Baal’s cock and strokes once or twice, smirking when Baal keens, clenching around his fingers. “You think you’re stretched enough?” he teases lowly, even though he knows that it has never really quite been enough. 

Not when it comes to Baal taking Nezha. 

“Then again, you’ve always liked the burn.” Baal makes an inhuman noise at the remark, clapping his hands over his face. 

Nezha pulls his fingers out and Baal’s barely stifled gasp is enough to spur Nezha on. Nezha undresses, his hands a blur as he throws his clothing to the ground. 

Turning Baal over, urging him onto his hands and knees, Nezha grabs more lube, slicks himself and sinks into Baal. He goes slow, not because he usually does but because he doesn’t want to hurt Baal more than necessary, wants to listen to the drawn out moan Baal lets out before he buries his head into the pillow, arms giving out. 

“Shhhh,” Nezha coos despite doing nothing to quiet Baal, snapping his hips forward without preamble, winding his fingers into Baal’s hair and yanking his head back, relishing the delicious arc of Baal back. “You’re going to wake the others.”

Baal spits something back at him that Nezha knows perfectly well probably means  _ bastard _ . He doesn’t take it to heart though, he is one. Sometimes. Most of the time actually.

He rolls his hips once. Twice. Makes sure Baal isn’t hurting or straining while listening to Baal sob quietly, his own hips jerking back to meet Nezha’s. 

“You’re already this sensitive? We’ve barely even started, Ba-al~” Nezha lets go of Baal’s hair, traces a hand down Baal’s back. His fingers run over bumps of Baal’s spine, touch tender in comparison to the way he rocks into Baal.    
  
Baal is  _ singing _ . He can’t help it.

Nezha leans back over him, chest to Baal’s back and slips fingers into Baal’s mouth, muffling his cries, growling when Baal sucks on them almost instinctively. He wants to draw it out but he’s not sure if he can, he’s been away for so long and Baal is both tight and  _ warm _ .

He murmurs a hushed  _ I love you _ even though Baal knows without him saying it. He always knows. 

Nezha slams into Baal, hand curling around Baal’s cock, pace punishing and unapologetic even when he murmurs an instinctive  _ sorry  _ when Baal groans in pain. Baal knows he probably doesn’t mean it too much. 

Baal comes first, teeth sinking to Nezha’s fingers when he tries to be quiet, curling into Nezha when Nezha’s hand keeps pumping his cock, thrusts stilling for a moment. 

Baal’s eyes flutter shut and he can’t help but tighten around Nezha. Nezha snarls — Baal can’t tell whether the pain angers him or riles him up, maybe _both_ — feels Nezha’s hand grip his cock harder, opens his mouth to ask Nezha to _wait,_ _he can’t he’s too sensitive_ — but Nezha’s fingers in his mouth muffle his words.

“ _ I know, _ ” Nezha’s almost cruelly sweet when he whispers into Baal’s ear, flaunting his ability to decipher the jumbled words around his fingers. “ _ But you like it like that, don’t you? _ ” 

“I—  _ No, _ ” Baal protests weakly when Nezha pulls his fingers out.

“ _ Liar _ ,” Nezha purrs, voice dropping and Baal’s heart skips a beat — he cranes his neck to look at Nezha and catches sight of Nezha’s blue eyes covered by his dishevelled raven hair, lips curled into a half feral grin. His head falls back to the pillow. 

_ Gloriously beautiful  _ he would call Nezha if he could talk — surely Nezha would protest if he did but that’s what Nezha’s always been to him —  _ gloriously beautiful  _ — a figure wreathed in typhoons of flame.

Baal feels Nezha’s hand grip his hip again, manages to breath — once — and gets it knocked out of him anyways. He doesn’t scream, or maybe he does from the way Nezha laughs triumphantly as he rocks into Baal. 

Nezha is usually chatty, smug even, when he’s fucking Baal. 

Baal chokes out a laugh of his own, Nezha’s… Maybe not  _ desperate  _ but maybe just a little more needy than usual. “Missed me?” Baal tries to tease, fails at it when Nezha fucks him harder, his voice tapering off into another moan. 

“Don’t get cheeky with me,  _ Baal _ ,” Nezha warns, voice lilting dangerously. “Maybe I just missed,” a punishing thrust, “having a warm, tight hole to  _ use _ . Maybe  _ you _ missed being used.” 

_ Dirty talk _ . Baal’s not sure when Nezha got him hooked onto liking it but he likes it and he truly is fucked.

Baal tightens around Nezha at the words, not sure if it’s intentional or just a natural reaction to the words. “ _ Fuck _ ,” Baal breathes, tries to hold it back, grips the sheets harder. 

“You  _ swore _ ,” Nezha stops and Baal screeches inhumanly, not caring if another skydom hears him at this point. “I’m still that good at fucking you, aren’t I? Out of practice though, you usually cry much more.” 

Smug. Asshole.

“ _ Shut up _ ,” Baal hisses, tries to rise but Nezha shoves him back down, fingers tangling into his hair again. Nezha pulls. Hard.

A warning. 

“ _ Kitten _ ,” Baal shivers, arching back into Nezha when Nezha keeps pulling, his neck tilting back until it almost hurts, “you should really keep your mouth shut and be  _ good _ for me or I’ll find another use for it.” 

The statement is weighted; holding heavy promises and threats if Baal doesn’t and by the Astrals Baal would be lying if he didn’t tighten around Nezha’s cock  _ again _ .

Baal bites his tongue, eyes flickering back to headboard and Nezha hums contentedly, bends over to bite Baal’s neck again, right under his jaw. Baal only has a moment to internally lament about how hard that one will be to cover up before Nezha slams back into him. 

The bed creaks and Baal mewls needily, claws at the sheets, eyes rolling back when Nezha releases his hair and uses both hands to steady Baal’s hips before railing him, barely controlled enough to not hurt him. 

It burns, just a bit but Baal’s used to having Nezha inside him and this is  _ nothing.  _ He’s melting from pleasure and it drowns out whatever pain he could be feeling. He shudders through another orgasm — louder this time, looser tongue than the last and none of Nezha’s fingers to help keep him quiet. 

Nezha’s quieter when he comes after Baal, burying himself inside Baal with a grunt — cum flooding into Baal and it’s  _ hot _ , warmth spreading through Baal as he blinks slowly, tries to catch his breath. 

He doesn’t recover quite as fast as Nezha but it’s fast enough after all these years. It would be foolish to assume Nezha’s done with him anyways.

He rolls over when Nezha tugs on his arm, groaning quietly when Nezha uses a finger to push the cum that’s dripping out of him back in. Baal knows it’s not enough, not for him or Nezha and he opens his legs so that Nezha can slide back into him effortlessly, hips shifting to make the angle better. 

“Spreading your legs without being told, how obedient~ You like me inside you that much?” Baal would clock Nezha if it would actually do something to shut him up.

Nezha runs a finger down Baal’s stomach when Baal doesn‘t respond, lifts it — cum dripping off of it as he licks it off, smirking at Baal. 

“Gross,” Baal deadpans, pointedly ignoring the obedient comment. He doesn’t need to inflate Nezha’s ego, it’s far too big already.

“Delicious, like always.”  _ Gross  _ Baal wants to say again but he leans up for another kiss instead, tasting himself on Nezha’s tongue. 

Nezha swipes two fingers against Baal’s stomach and pushes them against Baal’s lips. Baal gives him a stare but lets Nezha push the fingers into his mouth anyways, wrinkling his nose at the taste. Try as he might, he’s never gotten used to it. It’s always bitter.

“Don’t waste it,” Nezha’s voice is dripping with false sweetness, “you worked so hard to make it.”

Baal bites down, temper flaring. 

Nezha barely winces, gripping Baal’s chin to pry his mouth open before retrieving his fingers, calmly staring at the indents in them. 

It couldn’t possibly hurt, Nezha’s pain tolerance is too high for that but it could certainly excite Nezha.

“Baal, if you wanted to play rough, you should have said so.” Nezha slams into him, hand curling around Baal’s throat threateningly, palm growing warm. “I’d gladly fuck you and fill you up with my seed until that’s all you’re good for.” 

Baal moans embarrassingly loud, gripping Nezha’s arm, shivering at the threat. 

It sounds  _ nice _ . 

And it’s not a threat either, more like a promise. Baal’s not sure if it’s his lust-addled brain or normal, logical self that  _ likes _ the suggestion of letting Nezha do that to him. By the Astrals he has no idea what kind of changes he’s gone through since meeting Nezha.

He’s not sure if they’re bad or good. 

Nezha laughs, letting go of Baal’s neck — splays his fingers across Baal’s stomach instead, pressing his palm down. Baal whines softly, much more aware of the size of Nezha's cock. It presses into him, stretches him to his limit and even though he can take it now; it’s only after years of being with Nezha and getting used to it — Nezha is by no means small. 

Baal hasn’t understood why an astral like Nezha’s, so intent on making a killing machine would have focused on such a detail of all things but it works out. 

Kind of. For him anyways.

“You used to be so against dirty talk,” Nezha muses, and Baal flushes furiously. “Look at you now,” his other hand reaches up to tweak one of Baal’s nipples, Baal arching into the touch. He bends down, lips brushing the shell of Baal’s sensitive ear, grinding into Baal. “You don’t even mind when I call you  _ my whore _ .” 

Baal jerks, inhaling sharply — Nezha doesn’t mean it truly in the derogatory way that he’s heard skydwellers use the word but even so, he’s not quite sure why it excites him. “I’m  _ not _ a whore _ — _ ” he winces as he says the word, it still feels so foreign to him and he can’t quite get how Nezha says it without hesitation, “—much less yours.” 

“Keep telling yourself that,” Nezha murmurs mockingly, flashing Baal a smirk that makes the heat in Baal’s stomach coil. “You’re mine,” Nezha continues, whispering almost tenderly, “look at you, stretched out around me, needy and  _ desperate _ .” 

It always goes like this, him refusing to give an inch and Nezha pushes, pushes, and pushes until Baal gives all the way. 

Nezha idly shifts his hips when Baal doesn’t shoot a comeback at him; rouses a couple of bitten whines from him and pushes Baal back down when Baal tries to rise. He tilts his head, staring down at Baal, eyes flitting the window where the sun is starting to rise. 

“Nezha—” Baal knows that look, “—I want to walk today.”

He thinks it’s about time for the crew to start waking up and Nezha hasn’t really even gone that hard yet. Or gone hard at all. 

“But going that gentle is  _ boring _ ,” Nezha whines, hiking Baal’s legs over his shoulders, almost bending Baal in half. “I want to fuck you until you can’t walk. You like that even though you say don’t because you let me do it to you again and again. I like it when I can do that.”

One of Baal’s hands grips Nezha’s shoulder, knuckles turning white and the other braces against the headboard. 

“No. I have missions with the captains—” He’s trying too hard to sound like he has any objections. He doesn’t really. It’s really been a while but he has to put up some kind of fight.

Gran and Djeeta have never minded subbing him out for other people anyways, they’re flexible humans compared to the inflexible and never changing primals. 

Nezha pouts. “Baaaal, please~?” He pushes a hand through Baal’s hair, moving it out of his eye, bending down to leave another mark on Baal’s collarbone. Baal squirms, hand against the headboard moving to push Nezha’s head away. 

There’s a ‘ _ No’  _ on the tip of his tongue but Nezha speaks again, rushed and quiet before Baal can say anything else.

“It’s been so long… I just want to spoil you.” Nezha’s last words, however fumbled they are coming out, are decipherable, and they hang in the air for a moment as Baal processes them. He blinks before chuckling when he exhales, already crumbling.

Nezha kisses his thigh again.

Baal caves, smiling weakly at Nezha, tilting his head as he leans into Nezha’s hand and nods. 

“Say ‘yes,’” Nezha murmurs, uncharacteristically quiet, eyes half lidded as he stares down at Baal. 

Baal opens and then closes his mouth confusedly, raising an eyebrow before he utters a quiet, “Okay,” in a last ditch attempt to be cheeky. 

Nezha sighs, hands settling on Baal’s hips again.

“Do you ever do anything I tell you to do? I should really find something to do about that mouth of yours.” He sounds almost petulant, a little whiny even, eyebrows knitted together.

Baal glares back. “You don’t do anything  _ I _ tell you to do.”

Nezha pauses. 

“Ever.”

Nezha shoots him a pleading look.

“ _ Never _ .”

Nezha winces, faking pain as he places a hand over his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he says and Baal scowls, aware they’re getting off track but maybe it’s better if they do even though he’s already said yes to letting Nezha have his way. He can already hear the early risers starting to trudge down the hallway.

“Are you really?” 

Nezha grins, hand regripping Baal’s hips and he rolls his hips without warning, chuckling when Baal moans loudly, his own hands too late to muffle it. “Nah. Not really. But I’ll make it up to you. You did say yes after all. What kind of lover would I be if I didn’t ravish you to my heart’s content after hearing that?”

_ Horrible, horrible lover _ Baal wants to say but nothing that comes out of his mouth is remotely coherent by the time he opens it, Nezha’s thrust knocking the air out of him again. He tries to hold in his voice, biting down on his fingers until Nezha pins his hands above his head, bending down to whisper into Baal’s ear.

“Be a good little kitten for once and sing for me, Baal~” 

It’s suddenly much too hot in the room, Baal gasping brokenly as Nezha slides in and out without pause. He keens, high and needy, straining against Nezha’s grip. 

It burns, like Nezha’s setting his blood on fire. 

Nezha’s name is garbled when it comes out, Baal withering how he can’t even beg properly for Nezha to touch him more. He thinks Nezha at the very least, knows what he wants but as he stares up at Nezha, catching the smirk on Nezha’s face, he knows he’s not going to get it.

“Baal, you should come untouched,” Nezha cooes, voice smouldering with smugness when Baal tries to protest he already has.

“ _ Nez— _ ”

Nezha slides in again, movements effortless, lazy even as Baal jerks underneath him, a quivering mess. 

Nezha changes the angle again, murmuring more things into Baal’s ear in that low, throaty tone that he knows resonates with Baal’s sensitive ears in a way that makes Baal shudder. Baal doesn’t even process half of the phrases, catching the tail end of a praise here and there. 

“Ba-al~ Don’t break on me,” Nezha whispers as Baal arches off the bed, almost sobbing as he gets so close, so close— 

And comes again when Nezha takes mercy on him, sighing and releasing Baal’s wrists. His free hand wraps around Baal’s cock and strokes him through the orgasm, Baal screaming as he does.

The tension bleeds out of Baal, his breaths coming in slow pants. He’s not sure how much more he can go, not sure how much more Nezha wants from him but his limbs feel useless, blinking slowly in a daze. 

“Bastard,” he groans, losing track of the amount of times he’s already called Nezha that, slapping Nezha’s hand away from his cock when Nezha teasingly drags his thumb over the slit. “Could you not… Do this over a couple of days?” 

“But then you’d complain more about me not letting you sleep and it’s harder to overstimulate you if I did that.”

Baal is too tired to say anything back except for agreeing with Nezha somewhat. Not that he’d say it out loud. 

Nezha brushes the strands of Baal’s hair stuck to his forehead back, hand warm against Baal’s sweaty skin. Baal’s hardly been doing any work but he’s the one exhausted and panting while Nezha isn’t even breathing hard. One of Nezha’s hands curls around Baal’s thigh, pushing his leg further up while the other settles back into his hip. 

“Have you been stretching? You’re more flexible than the last time we did this,” Nezha muses as he continues to put pressure on Baal’s leg, grinning when Baal doesn’t wince with discomfort. 

“Do you,” Baal grits out, voice breathless and faint, hands curling into the sheets, “ever shut up?” 

“Mmmm,” Nezha heats up his hand curled around Baal’s thigh, hikes up Baal’s leg just a little further until Baal’s muscles start straining and Baal shakes his head to tell him not to test his flexibility anymore, “when it’s time for me to hear you cry my name, I do. And when I have my mouth around your—”

Baal thumps Nezha’s chest weakly, a burst of energy letting him rise a little to shoot a glare at Nezha.

“ _ Shut up _ .”

Nezha goes silent, drawing his fingers across his mouth in a zippering motion at Baal’s growl and Baal exhales shakily with relief, closing his eyes and relaxing back into the mattress, realizing how drained he is as he does. 

Nezha is surprisingly gentle when he moves again, slowly easing in and out at a pace that drives Baal up a wall. Baal knows it won’t last — Nezha likes to make him all sensitive before destroying him but it’s almost sweet at how Nezha peppers his thigh with light kisses, tilting Baal’s hips as he pleases to make the drag of his cock ever more maddening.

“Actually, Djeeta gave me a lecture on how I should be nicer to you last time I was here,” Nezha says quietly, the intensity of the heat of his palms rising until they feel like brands against Baal’s thighs, “something about being more considerate about your limits since you’re not as durable as me and they need you for support— Are you still listening to me?” 

Baal makes a subdued noise in response, he  _ is _ , or at least he’s trying hard to listen but it’s hard to cling onto a headspace where his mind doesn’t go blank at this point. His eyelids are drooping shut and even though he’s not moving at all, he’s so  _ tired _ . He wonders if he’ll pass out again this time. 

“Ohhhh.” Nezha laughs, cradling Baal’s face with one hand as he stops, leaning over Baal, “are you going to pass out on me?”

“... Trying not to,” Baal mumbles, eyes fluttering shut, leaning into Nezha’s hand, “you are… Intense as always. Can’t keep up with you.” 

“You could have asked for a break,” Nezha responds, sounding much too pleased with himself, resuming the slow roll of his hips. “But this is a good look on you too. And you’re sensitive right now which is nice.” 

Baal doesn’t even try to hide how he trembles with every move Nezha makes. He feels like his nerves are fried, can’t do more but whine softly, hips jerking weakly in time with Nezha’s thrusts. 

“Cute,” Nezha huffs out, taking care to bottom out with each thrust. “Usually I’d push you more, but I’ll be nice today. Once more for both of us, and then I’ll let you rest.” 

_ Maybe you do have a romantic bone in your body. _

It’s a half joke, half truth but Baal doesn’t say it out loud because he’s not trusting it to come out sounding how he wants it to sound and he doesn’t want Nezha taking it the wrong way. 

“Hurry it up then,” he says instead, wincing at how  _ gone _ his voice is, raspy and crumbling at the edges. 

“ _ Hurry it up then _ ?” Nezha echoes lazily, pace steady and unchanging despite Baal’s invitation. “Don’t you know patience is a virtue, Baal?” 

Nezha snickers quietly and Baal shoots him a tired look, too spent to even raise a hand to swat at Nezha’s face. 

“ _ I’ll kill you _ ,” Baal hisses, feeling some sort of rage at the phrase being thrown back at him now of all times. 

“Mhm,” Nezha hums, unconcerned, “you don’t have a single malicious bone in your body, I’ve never seen you kill anyone.” 

That may be  _ true _ but — “There’s a first time for everything, isn’t there.”

“Keep saying that, maybe you’ll step on an ant one day.” 

It’s the awkward positioning for Baal but he can’t effectively hit Nezha so he settles for another glare.

“I’m going to k—”

“—ill me? Yeah yeah, try saying that when you’re less of a wreck and maybe I’ll believe it’ll happen within the next century.” Nezha rolls his head slowly, cracking his neck before grinning at Baal. “Enough chit chat though, I think breakfast is almost ready and I’m starving but I’ve yet to hear you beg enough.” 

Baal wants to rebut with the fact that Nezha doesn’t  _ need _ food but he saves his breath instead, nails digging into Nezha’s arm when Nezha  _ finally _ gives him a fraction of his full strength.

“ _ Nezha— _ ” Nezha’s name slips from his lips before he can control himself, arching into the thrust with a strangled groan.

“That was quick,” Nezha quips cheerfully, eyes glittering and Baal swears he sees a hint of red in them before Nezha bends down and bites his neck, the burst pain keeping Baal on the verge of consciousness. “Say ‘please’ like a good kitten~”

“ _ Nezha, please… _ ?”

“Again.” Nezha is demanding like this, claiming and possessive and needing Baal to  _ beg _ and say his name _. _ Baal used to never take Nezha to be so materialistic but he is always like this, asking Baal to call his name — like he is making sure this is not a dream over and over and over. 

“ _ Please, please, more— _ ” Baal gasps, head lolling against the pillow even though he’s not sure he can take more. “Nezha—”

“Again.”

_ Brat _ , Baal thinks affectionately, clawing at Nezha’s back when he listens to Nezha and begs again, desperate and needy, not sure how Nezha understands the slur of words that come out of his mouth but he can feel Nezha’s lips curve into a grin against his neck.

“ _ Baal… _ ” The way Baal’s name is rumbled in Nezha’s throat is tender, even as he pounds into Baal. Baal cries out sharply, reaching his limit as he comes again, vision whitening and he blacks out. 

He’s not sure about what happens after that when he comes to, flitting between consciousness and sleep. 

Nezha keeps going after making sure he’s fine, Baal nodding mutedly when Nezha whispers the question, still burning up. He instinctively reaches up to cradle Nezha’s face, brushing the hair out of his eyes, painfully oversensitive but it doesn’t  _ hurt _ when Nezha rocks into him. Nezha finishes, panting as he thrusts into Baal one more time. 

Nezha makes a satisfied noise, rubbing circles into the skin of Baal’s hips, his fingers still leaving a trail of heat. 

“I’m going to pull out,” Nezha warns Baal after his breathing has evened out and Baal tries to nod his head in response. “There’s a lot this time~” 

Baal winces at how empty he feels. When Nezha comment on the amount of cum he feels spilling out of him, lifting a leg to kick weakly at Nezha and the other primal catches it without blinking. 

“Still feisty? Want to go for another round?” Nezha’s tone is teasing but Baal knows Nezha can easily go again and that is exactly the opposite of what Baal can do, so he kicks again with his other leg, managing to catch Nezha in the ribs. The glancing blow can hardly hurt but Nezha drops the captured leg anyways, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

“Don’t even...  _ think _ about it. You… You’re insatiable.” Baal is surprised he can even string together one, much less two coherent sentences at the moment and curls back up.

After pressing a kiss to his forehead, mumbling words in a language Baal thinks is vaguely familiar but can’t quite decipher at the moment, Nezha leaves the bed and disappears into the bathroom. Baal almost drifts off to sleep until Nezha reappears, lifting him this way and that. Something cool drags over his skin and then two fingers slide inside  _ again _ , rougher than Baal would have liked but after the quiet growl he manages to make, Nezha is more careful.

“Tired?” 

“Mmph…” Baal blinks blearily as he finally rises out of his daze, Nezha’s fingers having jerked him away from the edge of sleep for a moment. He’s almost like a limp kitten in Nezha’s arms when Nezha moves him off the bed and onto a chair, wrapping a blanket around him before he hustles off to change the bedsheets. “What…”

“I’m not letting you sleep on  _ those  _ bedsheets.” Nezha is somehow — like always — mysteriously chipper after sex while Baal feels like all his energy is gone for the next week. “It’s unsanitary, Baal~” 

“You don’t care for being sanitary.”

“But you do.”

“Hm,” is the only thing Baal offers in response before he wraps the blanket around him tighter, eyes widening as he realizes Nezha has used more than just water to clean him up. He presses his nose to his skin, inhales — he smells  _ nice _ . Maybe tolerable enough to lie in bed for a day until he goes shower to actually clean up. “Nezha…”

“I thought,” Nezha throws a pillow to the ground, grabbing a spare from Baal’s closet, “you’d like that scent. Picked it up on my way back since you always force yourself to stand in the shower even though,” he reaches over, tapping Baal’s knees, “these are ready to give out. It’s dangerous for you.” 

“That’s…” Sweet? Nice? Baal isn’t sure what to say. “Thank you.” 

He notices the scratches on Nezha’s back and arms, glances down at his nails and makes a mental note to cut them. He doesn’t offer to heal them though, he knows better than that by now. Stupid Nezha and his ‘battle scars.’

Nezha grins, smoothing the bed sheets before he spins around, picking up Baal again like he weighs nothing. Baal rests his head against Nezha’s chest, listens to the slow beat of Nezha’s heart while tapping into his resonance — which is muted and less intense than usual and that is  _ good _ because that means no murderous spree for a little while at the very least. 

“Want anything to eat?” Nezha sets him down on the sheets and Baal curls up, eyes already half shut by the time his head hits the pillow.

“Rest,” Baal grumbles, shoving his face into the pillow. “Lots of it.” 

“That wasn’t my quest— I’ll get you something sweet.”

“Stay away for at least eight hours.” 

“Sure,” Nezha says dubiously before he kisses Baal’s cheek, fingers skating down Baal’s neck and then chest, “if that’s what you want.” His hands curl into Baal’s hair and he starts massaging Baal’s scalp, carefully minding the knots.

“Also some ointment for my skin. You made me bleed.” Most of Baal’s body doesn’t want to work but his brain and tongue somehow do as he struggles to stay awake. The blanket smells like Nezha and he wants nothing more than to pull it closer and drift off to sleep. 

“You taste sweet, can you blame me?” Nezha intertwines their fingers with his spare hand. 

“You might not think keeping blood inside your body is necessary and important but  _ I _ need my blood.”

“You can spare your lover a few drops. Indulge me.” 

“I indulge you plenty— Why are you still here?”

“Right. Breakfast.” Nezha leans down and licks Baal’s neck. “Just a quick cleanup, some drops of blood were there,” he laughs when Baal shoots him a stink eye. “I’ll see you in an hour or two, Baal~”

“ _ Eight _ .” Baal tries not to hiss like Hannibal when the cat is irritated and fails miserably at that, said cat finally materializing again, curling into a ball next to Baal’s head. 

“Don’t freeze to death while I’m gone.” Nezha is smiling again, Baal can hear it in his voice even as he shuts his eyes and heaves out a sigh.

“ _ Leave _ .” 

**Author's Note:**

> i love nezha but i have lost count of how many times i scrapped and restarted this fic from scratch because feral nezha makes me want to tear out my hair whenever i try to write him-
> 
> this is half for katsu who feeds my brainworms and listens to me cry over this pairing
> 
> twitter: [@spymursclause](https://twitter.com/spymursclause)


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